Lying upon the arid sand 

in a really distant land.

Holding each other’s hand

inducing the love gland.

The sea beckons us both

to get wet sans our cloth.

There’s no reason to loath

instead relish tasty broth.

Our hips do not ever lie

although we are too shy.

Then clouds begin to cry

no longer leaving us dry.

Smooching causes a grin

sensing the touch of chin.

Content hearts tend to spin

seeing the union of our skin.

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